


To Fall (and to Fly)

by Ssuunnyyyyyyyy



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Accidents, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Extremely Dubious Consent, How Do I Tag, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, Human Disaster Alexander Hamilton, I'll add more tags as i go, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lawyer Aaron Burr, Lawyer Alexander Hamilton, Lawyer James Madison, Lawyer Thomas Jefferson, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Thomas Jefferson/James Madison, Mute Aaron Burr, Non-Consensual Bondage, Prostitution, Sex Trafficking, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, There's a human trafficking ring apparently, This is messed UP y'all, mute character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:35:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28549458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ssuunnyyyyyyyy/pseuds/Ssuunnyyyyyyyy
Summary: Aaron is fairly sure that Hamilton would've laughed at him. He assumes Hamilton would've said something along the lines of "You never use your voice anyway, so it's only fitting that you lost it". Instead, Alexander holds his hand when he's feeling down, and talks enough for both of them ten times over (and his words chase the shadows away).aka, a.ham shoves a.burr off a roof which results in a.burr losing his ability to control his vocal chords. and of course, the sex traffickers suddenly want to get involved. yep, its a mess
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton
Comments: 5
Kudos: 29





	1. Maybe I Can't Live Without You, But You Don't Have To Live

For a moment, it seemed like everything was going to be alright.

For a moment, it seemed like the world stopped moving only to watch the event unfold.

For a moment, it seemed like Burr would stumble, quickly steady himself, then proceed to shove Alexander right back.

For a moment, it seemed like Aaron wouldn't fall. 

However, that was only for a moment. Because after that moment passes, Alexander freezes on the roof (which, mind you, is 70 feet above the ground), wide-eyed, and watches Burr topple over the edge, disappearing from his line of sight.


	2. My Wings Are Broken But I Want To Try Anyways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this all might be a bit confusing, but bear with me please. the pieces should fall into place as the story goes on (hopefully)

Aaron almost laughs at the irony of it all. At the moment, he’s falling (no, he’s flying, he must be flying; he hasn’t felt this free in a long time) from the roof of the Washington Law Firm. In reality, the ground is only seconds away, but Aaron feels like he has an eternity to contemplate everything from what he ate for breakfast (banana cinnamon oatmeal, thank you very much) to his life choices involving that infuriating bastard known as Alexander Hamilton. 

"You know", a small, irritating voice in his brain says, "you always wanted to die this way". Aaron mulls over this new (old) and somewhat enlightening piece of information for a few minutes (at least, what feels like a few minutes). Eventually, he decides that the voice is right. He clearly remembers, in excruciating detail, every time he stood on the railing of his balcony on the 20th floor, thinking about every mistake he’s ever made in his whole goddamn life (he is a mistake, you are a mistake, you are a mistake, YOU ARE A MISTAKE). For the record, he's stood up there a total of eighteen times. Ten times, he just needed to feel the empty vacuum of air beneath his outstretched foot, to remind himself that jumping was still an option (an easy way out of the cruel reality known as life). Eight times, he almost did jump, only to have something else distract him (Alexander’s voice in his head telling him to back down, Alexander's number lighting up on his phone, Alexander paying an unexpected visit to his apartment and physically tugging him off the railing once he figures out what Aaron was about to do, it was all Hamilton, Alexander, ALEX). But that’s beside the point.

The point is, Aaron has always wanted to die falling (flying). The feeling of air rushing past his body was, for lack of a better word, liberating. Yes, he had gone skydiving a few times. In those particular moments when he was zooming across the abyss of blue sky and white, fluffy clouds, he felt free of all his burdens. For a split second, life had seemed worth all the troubles. However, once the tip of his feet touched the cold, unforgiving ground, all the weight and the grief and the sorrow came back tenfold. Aaron wasn’t going to pretend he hadn't considered not opening the parachute (because he had, multiple times, and one time he almost did it, almost allowed himself to plummet into the face of the earth at a speed of about 120 mph). So, all possibilities considered, this wasn’t exactly an unpleasant way to die. Besides, he had read somewhere in a news article that most people have a heart attack just before they hit the ground, making their deaths numb and painless. The only regret he had was not visiting the Theodosias’ graves one more time. But that was alright. He would be seeing them very soon, he hoped.

As he’s falling, his mind suddenly flashes back to Alexander. He almost gives in to the urge to roll his eyes in midair. If his last, dying thought is of Alexander, he will (mark his words) come back from the dead (perhaps with a broken neck) and shoot that annoying bastard in the side. They always said your life flashes before your eyes. In some way, that statement is true. But the only memories Aaron sees are the ones with Alexander in them. Alexander, who first went up to him, starry-eyed, somewhere around three years ago (are you Aaron Burr, sir?). Alexander, who stole the spotlight as he walked into the firm for the first time (Mr. Washington, you wanted to see me?). Alexander, who had all these controversial beliefs, but was never afraid to voice them (pay your FUCKING TAXES). Alexander, who had been there for all of Aaron’s highs and lows (can we confer, sir?). Alexander, who dragged Aaron down from his balcony railing, pleading and begging him not to jump (WAIT!). Alexander, who kindly never asked what that was about (dear Theodosia, what to say to you-). Hamilton, who also hated Aaron’s neutral stance in every single topic in the whole wide world (if you stand for nothing Burr, what’ll you fall for?). It's fittingly ironic. And now, Alexander Hamilton, who (accidentally?) shoved Aaron over the edge of the Washington Law Firm roof (he didn’t say anything this time, and maybe that’s what hurts the most). 

He turns his head, looks at the ground, and gauges how close he is to his unavoidable death (he’s very close now). Unfortunately, his luck has always been the spiritual equivalence of dogshit, so he happens to catch a glimpse of Jefferson pinning Madison against the wall of an alley. Aaron immediately wishes that he had some bleach for his virgin soul. He doesn't need that image ingrained in his mind while dying. 

The only semi-positive side to this disturbing sight: Angelica now owes him $100. Actually, no, she owes him $200. First of all, they had bet $100 on whether or not James and Thomas would get together. According to the way Jefferson had been grinding against Madison, Aaron was pretty sure that the relationship had been happening for a considerable amount of time. Secondly, they had bet another $100 on whether or not Alexander Hamilton would be the death of him. He can still clearly recall Angelica rolling her eyes in a teasing manner while taking a sip of her expensive red wine. "You, young man, are being unnecessarily dramatic. Alex could never kill you; it's not in his political interest to do so, Aaron." Yeah, right, Angie. Look where 'political interests' got him.

The last thought he has before he (supposedly) splatters his insides on the concrete happens to be about his parents. He's a bit surprised (he hasn't thought of them in a long time). They died in a car accident when he was only two, leaving him in the custody of his (abusive?) uncle. Long story short (because there is a very long story behind this involving cuts, bruises, broken ribs, and other injuries of the sort), Timothy Edwards was a bad man and a terrible parental figure. Every time his uncle used the belt, Aaron thought longingly of his parents. Every time his uncle used his knuckle rings and steel-toed boots, Aaron thought he would be joining his parents shortly. He misses them so much. But now (thanks to Alexander, ironically), he would finally get to see them again. His left hip connects with the ground, (he's been waiting for a long while for this moment) sending a sharp burst of pain through his side. As of now, it was only a matter of time (will they tell his story?).


	3. You're My One And Only And I Had To See Your Eyes Shut For The Last Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i hope it makes a tiny bit more sense now !! also, i wanted to say that i had these chapters typed before i uploaded them, meaning that future uploads will be significantly slower - sorry !! TwT

James moaned as Thomas caught his lower lip in a gentle nip. Just a few minutes ago, Thomas had pushed him into an alley and proceeded to make out right then, right there. Most of the time, Thomas was an asshole who annoyed James to no end. But there were certain days when he needed the comfort that his loving (and slightly annoying) boyfriend could provide. 

Today was one of those days. At 3:47 in the morning, James had woken up from a nightmare (specifically, one that consisted of an Asian-looking Freddy Krueger). Afterward, he fell asleep sometime after 5 in the morning, exhausted from twisting and turning in his bed for about an hour. When he finally woke up again, it was to Washington calling his cell to ask if he was alright. James was a hard-working and organized person. Each day of his started and ended like clockwork. That was why Washington decided to phone him, wondering why he still wasn't at work at 8:59 in the morning (approximately an hour and a half after James usually came in). James, meanwhile, was shocked right out of his dreamy haze and proceeded to rush to work as fast as he could. In his hurry, he had forgotten to make coffee. Now, this was potentially a decision that could lead to disaster. He could not (absolutely COULD NOT) function without coffee. This lead to a tired and grumpy James filling up a paper cup with the terrible office caffeine that tasted dreadfully similar to cough medicine (trust him, he would know). On the way back from the coffee pot, he bumped into Hamilton and spilled a quarter of his coffee all over his fluffy blue jacket. "Watch where you're going, you asshole," was the response he got. James almost decided to stick his tongue out and make a face at Hamilton. Then, he remembered that he was a 28-year-old man working at one of the most prestigious law firms in the country. He would not waste his precious time worrying about childish endeavors. After this unfortunate encounter, James headed to his workspace, only to find Burr's office door open. Now, this was very suspicious and unusual (Burr never left his door open; he claimed that Hamilton would see that as an invitation). For once, curiosity got the better of him, and he opened the door just a tiny bit to peak through. Burr had his head buried in his arms (and was it only James, or were his shoulders trembling a bit?). Seeing this shook James quite a bit; generally, Burr refused to show any emotion at all. Burr was always known as a calm and sensible colleague that could keep his cool when an argument broke out. When James finally got to his office, he concluded if even Burr was pissed, then today must be a remarkably shitty day. However, the day just proceeded to get even shittier. Both Hamilton and Burr had been assigned (by Washington himself) to the Levi Weeks case. Honestly, James thought this was a horrible decision (he was genuinely surprised when there were no fatalities in the office after a week of those two collaborating). However, given that today was (as was already established) a very shitty day, something terrible ought to happen.

It was somewhere around 2:36 in the afternoon when James started noticing the tension. More specifically, the tension between Hamilton and Burr. At 2:34, James had decided to take a restroom break. He saved his files, closed his laptop, and locked his office (because one time he forgot to lock his office, Thomas had snuck in, hid under his desk, and scared the shit out of him once he came back). He was about to take the one-minute trek to the nearest restroom when he heard voices coming from Burr's office. James wrinkled his nose in confusion; Burr rarely had visitors in his office. Despite the rational part of his brain telling him to mind his own goddamn business, James crept closer to the voices. As of now, Burr was speaking, and he seemed more agitated than James had ever heard him sound.

"Hamilton, attorneys aren't supposed to have opinions about their client."

"God damn it, Burr! I'm not asking for your opinion as an attorney. I'm asking for your fucking opinion as a goddamn human being!"

James flinched. He could practically feel Burr recoil at the insult. 

"I am both an attorney and a human being, Hamilton. Even if I do have an opinion about my client, I am not entitled to tell you about it."

"He's also my client you unopinionated piece of shit!"

"My point still stands, Hamilton."

"Fuck you!"

James quickly walks away. Things were about to get heated, and he didn't want to be caught in the crossfire. 

Approximately three minutes later, James came out of the bathroom and proceeded to walk to his office again. After about nine steps, he could hear shouting, loud and clear. He rounded the hallway and was not surprised at all to see the entire fourth floor crowded around Burr's office, listening in on the argument. Shortly afterward, Washington stalked in and shoved his way through the crowd to try and de-escalate the situation. James watched with amusement as he failed severely. After a few minutes of back-and-forth between Washington and Alexander (with Burr looking like he wanted to spike his coffee with rat poison the entire time), Washington finally gave up with a loud sigh.

"Gentlemen, if you need to argue, take it out to the roof. I do not want to hear another word of this mindless banter, and neither does anyone here."

Personally, James had wished to see how this whole thing turned out, but he wasn't stupid enough to try and disobey his boss. Hamilton let out a loud "Fuck this shit!" and slammed his palms onto his table. After an uncomfortably intense staredown with Washington, Hamilton huffed a sigh, grabbed Burr's hand, and proceeded to drag him to the elevator. As they passed, Burr leaned in close to James.

"Please, help me," he had whispered. James chuckled and gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder. 

"You'll survive," James countered. He heard a mutter of "that's what they all say" as Hamilton dragged Burr away.

The last two hours at the office were rather uneventful. However, by the time the workday ended, James was thoroughly exhausted. He almost gave into being carried out of the firm by Thomas. However, being a respectful individual, James would never trade his pride and dignity for the momentary relief of fatigue. So, in the end, James had held his head up high and walked out of the firm by himself. His honor lasted for nearly five seconds before Thomas came and pushed him into an alley to make out. Currently, this was where they were and had been for the past four minutes.

The make-out session was getting quite heated, with Thomas rutting against James' leg and making all those delicious sounds from the bottom of his throat. Without warning, James thrust his thigh forwards into Thomas's crotch and smirked at the moan he drew out of his boyfriend. 

He was just about to hook his right leg around Thomas's waist when he heard a sickening thud that made his stomach drop straight to the floor. Thomas had the same reaction, given the abrupt halt to the rutting. When James finally mustered the courage to look at the source of the sound, he almost passed out right then right there. At the same time, he could feel Thomas's knees buckle against his. 

"Holy fuck." Thomas's southern drawl was noticeably shaking as they stared at the bloody body a few feet away from them. Without wasting another second, James sprinted over and kneeled next to the person. Whoever the victim was had landed with their face away from them, concealing their identity for the moment. Thomas slowly emerged at his side, with his cheeks paler than James had ever seen. They nodded at each other, fear etched into their expressions. On the mental count of three, James put his hand on the person's shoulder and flipped them onto their back. 

He couldn't help gasp when he saw who it was. Next to him, James barely registered the strangled cry that Thomas had let out. Underneath his trembling grasp, Aaron Burr seemed limp and lifeless.


	4. The Last Thing I Said To You Was Hello Instead Of Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> last chapter, i kinda focused on jeffmads. this one is dedicated to jeggy, the most underrated ship ever !! and also, i hope things are starting to make more sense as this goes on. btw, dont mind the random chapter titles; they have absolutely nothing to do with the story :3
> 
> (ps - a kudos or a comment would be very appreciated by the sleep-deprived highschool freshman who's just trying to get a 4.0 so her parents don't disown her TvT)

For Peggy, today had been a surprisingly good day. She had woken up to sunlight streaming through her curtains and birds singing outside the window. She took a quick shower and threw on a yellow sundress. Afterward, she grabbed a banana, her phone, and her purse and proceeded to rush out of the door. 

Personally, Peggy never believed in coffee; in her opinion, it was an overstated lie. Everybody always claimed that they felt so refreshed and invigorated after a good cup of ground caffeine. However, Peggy thought the whole coffee mania was merely a placebo effect. 

After checking her makeup one last time, she headed straight to the Washington Law Firm (and if she stopped by Starbucks for a small frappuccino, no one needs to know). She sat down on the swivel chair situated behind the front desk and examined her complexion in the small handheld mirror that had been gifted by Eliza on her 16th birthday. She turned her head one way, then another, slightly sucking in her cheeks. Glossy lipstick, check. Sexy eyeliner, check. Highlighted cheekbones, check. She was all set for the day. 

Specifically, she was all set for the arrival of a certain forensic pathologist on the Levi Weeks case who had been hitting on her non-stop for the past few weeks. When the door opens three minutes later, Peggy doesn't even have to look up to know who it is.

"Hey, John."

"Hey, Pegster!"

Peggy rolls her eyes. John knows very well that she hates the nickname, yet he'll never pass up an opportunity to tease her.

"You know," John says, walking over with a smirk and a slight swagger, "you look hot today. Almost as hot as a freshly decomposing corpse."

At first, Peggy had felt nothing less than terrified at these (pick-up-lines?) compliments. Now, she just snorted and checked him in. 

"You and your forensic pathology," she says, rolling her eyes for what seemed like the umpteenth time in five minutes. John gasps as if offended by her blunt statement.

"You say that like it's a bad thing." 

"Necrophilia is a bad thing, " Peggy countered, emphasizing the 'is' while raising her eyebrows, "and if you disagree, you can fight me." 

John cringes at the offer. (People who fought Peggy were usually never seen again).

"Nah, I think I'll take a raincheck on that one. Lunch at noon together?" John asks, trying to hide his hopeful expression and failing miserably. Peggy considers saying something similar to "Nah, I think I'll take a raincheck on that one."

"Yeah, John. See you at our usual restaurant," she says instead. John flashes her a smile that makes her cheeks flush as he walks past the front desk. She huffs and checks her analog clock situated at the corner of her desk by the monitor. Currently, it was six-thirty in the morning. Peggy buried her face in her arms and groaned. In other words, she would have to wait at least five hours and thirty minutes before she could see John again. 

Said five hours and thirty minutes were rather uneventful. Besides checking in an irritated Aaron and a remarkably pissed Alexander side by side (they were the unfortunate pair of lawyers partnered together on the Weeks case), nothing else of potential importance happened. However, when John finally came down to the first floor to meet her for lunch, he looked somewhat worried and conflicted. She approached him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Hey, what's up? You seem a bit..." 

"Concerned?"

"Yeah."

"Don't worry, Pegster, it's nothing." Peggy cocked her eyebrow disbelievingly. John smiled at her as an act of reassurance. It didn't work. John finally dropped the act and pinched the bridge of his nose with a loud sigh. He placed his hand gently on Peggy's shoulder and motioned towards the door.

"Let's get out of here. I'll explain it when we're at the restaurant." Peggy nodded and followed him as he quickly and gracelessly stumbled onto the sidewalk outside of the law firm. When they finally got to the restaurant and finished ordering lunch, John leaned forward on the table as his mouth tilted down into a troubled frown. At this point, Peggy was a bit worried (John never looked this concerned before).

"It's the body. The autopsy. Elma Sands. Levi Weeks, it-they-the-," John stuttered. He then made a sound similar to a broken engine.

"Woah, slow down John. One thought at a time." John had a pained look on his face as he spoke again.

"Whoever killed her... Y-you didn't see what they d-did to her. The bruises on her hips, the blood i-in her vagina, the-the broken pelvis, my GOD-"

"John..." Peggy whispered, her eyes widening. John shook his head and blinked aggressively.

"In short, Elma Sands was raped. Unfortunately, I can't pull any evidence from her body; whoever did this, and I hate to say it, they did it well." John took a breath and paused, burying his head in his arms. Peggy quickly took one of his hands in hers, trying to offer the bit of comfort she could.

"I'm just so fucking frustrated, Margaret!" Peggy bit her lip, looking to the side.

"Look, I-I understand that this can be very tragic and disturbing, but John, you've had rape cases before. What makes this one so special?" This time, it was John's turn to look away. His fingers began to tap on the table as he slowly removed his hand from underneath Peggy's. As much as she wanted to pry about the situation, the psychology class she took in college told her to wait for it. Eventually, the decision paid off, and John reached for her hand again, caressing the soft skin on her palm beneath his calloused one.

"Here's the thing. Alexander and I have a theory." He paused for a moment, seemingly contemplating his decision. Peggy tilted her head and looked on with wide eyes, silently begging him to continue. John obliges.

"Even though both of us can't find any evidence, we still think Weeks is guilty. Man, something about that guy just throws us off. Like, seriously, he's got that weird I'm-a-smug-rapist-about-to-get-off-scot-free vibe." Peggy almost giggles at his child-like prose before reminding herself of the incident at hand.

"I mean, even Burr agrees with us!" Peggy cynically raises one slender eyebrow, making John sigh in defeat.

"Okay, fine. Well, Burr didn't verbally agree, but you could see it in his eyes! Wait, no, this is getting off-topic. The problem is, both Alex and Burr are criminal defense lawyers. This means that even though they think Weeks might be guilty, they can't say anything against the current evidence. And that would be completely fine if it weren't for one small detail, the detail being: the current evidence is BULLshit." Peggy sighs while she pats his hand, urging him to continue.

"As mentioned before, I can't pull a single fucking piece of data out of the autopsy, and from what I've heard, the police aren't doing well with the crime scene either. If we can't find anything against Levi, then Alex and Burr are going to represent a rapist in court." Peggy makes a sympathetic noise, too far in her own thoughts to try and worry about soothing John. 

"Well, Alexander obviously isn't going to sit still and do nothing if he believes Weeks is guilty," Peggy states. She absentmindedly rubs her thumb on the back of John's hand, eyebrows furrowed with concentration.

"Yeah," John snorts, "you got that right. Alex, who was actually being sensible for once in his life, wants to tell Washington about his suspicions. However, Burr told him not to. The little shit was so scared about losing his job that he would risk letting a criminal roam free again." Peggy chuckles a bit.

"To be quite honest, Burr was acting all holier-than-thou," John continues, "talking about how his opinion shouldn't factor into the result of the case. If I were to quote what he said before lunch, it'd be something along the lines of 'For the case to be executed swiftly and logically, one needs to piece together the evidence related to the crime, not the emotions related to the person'." John sneered with disgust as he finished imitating Aaron. This time, Peggy isn't able to contain her laughter and bursts out guffawing at John's robotic yet prissy impression of their coworker. However, Peggy did believe that Aaron had a point. Solely judging someone based on their "vibe", as John had called it, isn't legitimately logical. 

"Hey, John?" Peggy asked, fiddling with one of her bracelets.

"Are you absolutely sure that Levi Weeks... raped and killed Elma Sands?" John gazed at Peggy, a look of determination flitting across his features before he spoke.

"Of course, no one can be one-hundred-percent sure about a claim. But let's just say that I would bet my life on the fact that Weeks is not, by any means, innocent." John crosses his arms and sets his jaw, subconsciously challenging Peggy to disagree with him. Peggy nods and considers what John just confessed. She wants to think logically, to contemplate situations as Aaron does, but she trusts John. (That may or may not have anything to do with her not-so-secretive crush on him). If John was completely positive about his allegations, then she would no longer be able to believe Weeks was harmless. 

"Shit." Peggy looks up at John confusedly as he checks his phone.

"According to Alex, Burr's being an emotionless nuisance again, which probably signals the end of my lunch period." He rolls his eyes and huffs a heavy sigh as he pockets the phone again. 

"Well, I enjoyed grabbing some food with you, Pegster. Wanna do it again sometime?" Peggy looks at John, who had extended a hand to help her out of her chair. She takes it and smiles at him, standing and rearranging her dress.

"You know it, John." John ducks his head and laughs before speaking.

"Well, I'm afraid I can't walk you back today; I've gotta break the fight before it gets physical again." Peggy's eyebrows shoot up.

"Again?" She asks. John laughs.

"Yeah, about a year ago, Alex punched Burr on the jaw and broke his knuckles." Peggy winces in sympathy.

"For your information, Burr's jaw was fine. He just had a pretty ugly bruise on the side of his face for a while." John laughs, reminiscing the memory.

"Alex was so pissed about having to wear a cast for a month." Peggy snorts. Honestly, it wasn't above Alexander to break his hand on a colleague's face. Suddenly, John's phone vibrates again. He takes it out of his back pocket and grimaces at the message. 

"Fuck. Things are getting heated back at the firm. See you tomorrow, Peggy?" She smiles, picking her own phone up from the table.

"Yeah, see you tomorrow, John." With that, John sprints out of the restaurant, almost knocking over a waiter carrying a tray of dirty dishes. Peggy laughs again, watching as he hurriedly opens the door and takes off immediately. After pulling out a gracious tip and leaving it on the table, she slowly walks out of the restaurant and continues on her way back. 

About an hour after she took up residence at her usual spot behind the front desk, Thomas Jefferson, another defense attorney, steps out of the elevator and makes his way to Peggy. 

"My God," he exclaims in his slow southern drawl, holding his left hand up to check his nails.

"Did you hear about what happened on the fourth floor today?" Peggy, who, at the moment, desperately needed some gossip, abandoned her work and turned to face Thomas.

"Well, I know that Aaron and Alexander both work on the fourth floor, and I know there happened to be a recent dispute over the Weeks case," she guesses. 

"So, would it be far-fetched to assume that the argument got a bit, ah...passionate?" Thomas crosses his arms and smirks at her.

"Not bad, kid," he says, completely ignoring Peggy's indignant "I'm not a kid".

"The argument actually got so..."passionate", as you called it, that Mr. Washington told both of them to take it to the roof." Peggy's eyes widened as she leaned back into her chair.

"That bad, huh?" Thomas laughs.

"Yeah, that bad. I just hope Hamilton, the little shit, doesn't end up killing Aaron, but alas, what can I do?" Thomas waves a hand dismissively.

"Anyway, I've got a bit of work to get back to. With that being said, see you later, Margaret." Peggy turns back to her monitor with a grunt as Thomas reenters the elevator.

She doesn't even think about it until the clock on her desk strikes five. That was the official time her workday ended. She grabbed a couple of files, put a stray pen back into the pencil holder, and prepared to walk out of the building. She decided that if Aaron and Alexander were still arguing, then she would convince Angelica to go bitch-slap them both to oblivion.

Suddenly, just before Peggy was able to open the door, a human-shaped, grey blur hit the ground a few yards away from her. She blinks, freezing with her hand on the doorknob. Her vision focuses on the figure lying on the pavement as a pool of blood forms beneath it. Peggy doesn't even notice James Madison and Thomas Jefferson sprinting to the road from the side of the building. The screams from nearby pedestrians were muffled in her ears as she watches James set a hand on the person's shoulder. Thomas and James look at each other and nod, silently coming to an agreement. Peggy counts three seconds before James dares to move the figure. When he finally turned the body onto its back, an ice-cold zing shoots through her spine. She gasps and stumbles back.

The figure lying on the pavement, unconscious (and probably dead if we're being honest), was no other than Aaron Burr. 

As she watches Thomas frantically fumble with his phone, no doubt trying to call an ambulance, there's only one twisted word that her brain could come up with. Peggy slowly backs away from the door, eyes wide and hands trembling as the word repeats itself over and over again in her mind.

Ironic, she thinks.


End file.
